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Coffee, doughnut, coffee, doughnut, a ritual, a routine, almost every day, my life a series of these small, repetitive acts. I sit here with my coffee and doughnut, thinking, pondering. How long does this ritual last? I still don’t know. The coffee’s warmth, the doughnut’s sweetness, coffee, doughnut, coffee, doughnut. Interesting, ain’t it? I like…
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Tammy sat there, mind blurry, a dark cloud of doubts swirling, no notion of what to think or write. “What should I write today?” he hummed, like a broken-down recorder in a room where even the dead wouldn’t speak. Usually, he heard them, their voices chanting, a rhythm he would dance to in the middle…
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I don’t know. I really don’t. Things around me, so many things, seem insignificant yet they hold meaning, fragments of my life always present but lost among themselves. I insist on them, compel them, not because they’re junk but because they’re mine, mine to surround myself with. I carry them with me, always, books mostly.…
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I walked into the kitchen, the morning light slanting through the window, casting long shadows on the floor. There, on the dining table, a stack of unopened letters sat next to my breakfast, the aroma of coffee mingling with the air. A note from my wife, her handwriting familiar and reassuring, said she had to…
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The first day of my new job was filled with neon lights slashing through windows at a hidden place in the alley that no one dared to stumble into. When an odd man approached, the place was filled with mystery. “Newbie,” he said, slicing through my confusion. The hall stretched like a dream. I found…